


black currant.

by cha_lan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 12:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cha_lan/pseuds/cha_lan
Summary: Continuing the tradition of stargazing with your best friend always feels magical—perhaps, it’s because of his gleaming presence that competes with the shining atmosphere.Alternatively, you and Vernon realize you’re not much different than the stars above, which you watch with such admiration.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	black currant.

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: fluff, mutual crushes.
> 
> No warnings.
> 
> *originally posted to my tumblr on 210310 as part of my teacup collection

The wisps of his exhale twist and twirl in the moonlight, tracing a picture in front of his face before receding into nothingness.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“No,” you say with your gaze to the sky, “I like watching the stars.”

Vernon chuckles out, “Alright,” and takes a spot by your side, reclining into the cushioned blanket spread out beneath you.  
  


You and your childhood friend have been enjoying the view of the sun setting over the city. It’s been a tradition every once in a while since the two of you were kids. Now, you have the added lift from his apartment on the eighth floor in his building, allowing you to feel that much closer to the spiralling galaxies above. Vernon’s balcony is the perfect size to arrange a comfy assortment of blankets for a cozy summer night. One take-out dinner later, you find yourself still outside. The temperature is comfortable enough, even with the lack of sunlight. Vernon had gone inside to dispose of the styrofoam packaging but has returned, now sitting by your side.  
  


The sky is still slightly illuminated; the sun has set only about fifteen minutes ago, allowing the horizon to remain painted in a pretty coral and dark tangerine, transitioning into a deeper blue from way above. Yet, the moon is already visible from afar—a soft crescent sitting atop the distant mountains.

Vernon remains silent, not sure if speaking will distract you from whatever it is you’re observing above.

Yet, you’re the one to first speak through the silence: “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live amongst the stars?”

Your gaze remains to the heavens, but Vernon’s eyes gloss over your face.

“What would that be like?” you continue, voice hushed to match the peacefulness of outside. “I’m sure the view up there would be breathtaking.”

A small smile forms on the boy’s features while he observes your wonder-filled expression. “I’m sure it would be—beautiful, probably.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper.

You can see the blinking light of an airplane soaring above, questioning where it’s going, where it’s been. Or, perhaps, it’s not a plane but a satellite doing its programmed route over the Earth. Either way, your eyes follow the twinkling movement as it passes by.

“Do you believe we come from the stars?”

Vernon has now situated himself on his back to look upwards where your eyes are so intensely trained.

“What do you mean?” the boy asks; his gaze bounces between all of the flickering stars slowly emerging in the gradually-darkening sky.

“The elements—the components that make up a star—they’re found within our bodies, too.”

“No way,” Vernon whispers, a new perspective blooming in his mind about the little fiery orbs in the far distance. _Well, they wouldn’t look little up close,_ the boy considers, _but they do look small in the wide expanse of the sky._

He concludes that he mustn’t be much different from the stars above—regarding matter, at least. But more importantly, Vernon settles that _you_ are practically a galaxy; celestial is a word he’d pick to describe you in this very moment.

“Yeah,” you finally pull your gaze from above to look at the boy next to you, although now, he’s fixated on examining the atmosphere. You add, “It’s not just us, but all life on Earth; all organic material. It’s all got the same chemistry as stars.”

“That’s incredible.”

“Right?”

Vernon hums, basking in the view of the sky. “So,” he muses, “earlier, when you asked about what it would be like to live among the stars,” he pauses, contemplating his words, “aren’t we already doing that?”

When your friend turns his head to the side to meet your eyes, you swear you can see all of the constellations in his irises at that moment.

 _He really is made of stars,_ you think. Though instead, you say, “Yes,” with a growing smile. “That makes me happy to think about.”

The sky is now a dusty charcoal: the colour of black currant tea leaves. The sun has disappeared entirely now; the deeper blue hue from earlier has since taken over, washing everything above the horizon in its gradient. The moon seems to shine brighter than before.

The evening breeze begins to blow between your and Vernon’s bodies; goosebumps tingle across your bare arms and raise the little hairs on the back of your neck, tingling your spine in the process.

“Are you cold?” the boy next to you asks.

“A little bit,” you respond truthfully, “but I’m still not ready to head back inside yet.”

“I can go and grab another blanket?”

“No, it’s okay,” you swallow the lump forming in your throat. “Maybe, instead, I could…”

You don’t finish your sentence and instead, shuffle slightly closer to Vernon.

The boy is stunned for a moment at your sudden proximity but relaxes his body when he feels your radiating warmness.

Your arms are now brushing against each other with fingertips touching ever-so-slightly.

The silent night atmosphere is all that fills your reddening ears when you feel Vernon slowly take hold of your hand and clasp his fingers around yours.

His hand feels soft. It’s the slightest bit clammy, but not excessively. And even if it was, you’re sure your attention would be stuck on the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, as it is now.

“Is this okay?” the boy asks, squeezing your hand slightly tighter at his question.

“Y-yeah,” the way your voice stutters embarrasses you. You clear your throat and squeeze his hand back, “It’s okay.”  
  


The two of you continue to stare up at the sky and its expanse of bright stars. Some unspoken emotion is thick in the air, fluttering across the balcony; it’s an unsaid agreement of sorts. Perhaps it’s a consensus where something is lying beneath the surface; perhaps it’s reciprocated feelings that are too scared to bubble up—to pop and fizzle and explode like a firework bursting with a million colours and then some.

Or perhaps, it’s that the two of you, right now, are stars—similar to the ones which you find yourselves gazing at so fondly.


End file.
